“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
From the moment most kids can speak, the adults in their life make a point of asking the question of former-toddlers and teens alike. Maybe they ask only to avoid silence or are even still genuinely searching for ideas for themselves; whatever their intentions, adults instilled in me and millions of children like me an intense sense of freedom, curiosity, and purpose with the question. No doors are closed to the five-year-old who happily exclaims that he’s either going to be an astronaut or a shark tamer! This interaction between kids and caring adults is crucial in that it both shows the child that the adults around them love them enough to invest in their futures, and also shows kids that, while any role is attainable, each adult member of society is expected to hold a role in the collective maintenance of our society. With such significant implications, the simple question plays a crucial role in kindling far-reaching goals and a sense of belonging that motivates children to strive for success.
After visiting the juvenile detention center in Clayton today, I have little doubt that most of the children cycled through our criminal system never received that inquiry, never felt the sense of wonder and belonging it brings, or the love and care brought by the inquirer. No matter their backgrounds, juvenile delinquents have an urgent right to an adult figure who can provide them with self-worth, genuine affection, and attachment to life. I was happy to meet with one juvenile court judge earlier today, as he provided an excellent example of the kind of universal respect and motivational spirit required to interest stray juveniles in pursuing a better life for themselves. Surprisingly, his egalitarian view of human worth and child-like belief that anything is truly possible provided what I felt was a false start for the tour of the detention center we subsequently had just one floor above his office.
Juvie is not for the faint of heart. White walls, tight security, constant supervision, and a scent of desperation (mixed with urine) provided a stark contrast to the judge’s exceedingly optimistic views of the system. Beyond instilling a sense of respect sharpened by fear, I saw little potential for reform in the detention center, and I feared for the quality of life that the children who were placed in the unit experienced. While our tour was understandably limited, I saw no sign of professional counselors, therapists, or child psychologists present who would be able to convince a juvenile delinquent that they could be anyone or do anything they wanted to do when they grew up. In addition, I wonder at how a ten-year-old criminal can possibly feel any sense of belonging to the Saint Louis community or to our society as a whole when so much of their young life becomes comprised of being punished by a system to which they have not yet had a chance to contribute. If our collective solution to child crime in our community is to take the child, lock him up in a building with padded walls, wait a few months or years, and then expect them to run out a fully-integrated or at least functional member of society, then the future may not be as bright as our positive-minded judge painted it to be.
Nonetheless, after spending just a few hours of my day in juvie, I can’t hope to possess the magical key to reinvigorating the situation keeping young delinquents from reaching their full potentials. And while the bleak atmosphere of the detention center certainly left me feeling inconsequential in the struggle to better the lives of the kids residing within those walls for the benefit of society, I can’t help but to think that the solution is tantalizingly close, and even hope against hope that maybe these kids are just waiting to encounter the adult who cares enough to sincerely ask them what they want to be when they grow up.